


Baby Johnny

by KathyG



Series: John Watson's life [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Baby John Watson, Birth, Children, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Harry, No Slash, One Shot, Rejection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23530342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyG/pseuds/KathyG
Summary: Six-year-old Harriet Watson learns that she is going to be a big sister, and that she is going to stay with their neighbor while her mother is in the hospital.  How will her father react to the news?  And how will Harry take to being a big sister?  Thanks tosgam76for beta-reading this story for me!
Relationships: Harry Watson & John Watson
Series: John Watson's life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015687
Comments: 13
Kudos: 9





	Baby Johnny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sgam76](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgam76/gifts).



> Because I have recently come across a picture of John Watson’s [birth certificate](https://finalproblem.tumblr.com/post/181628904615/something-sherlock-holmes-and-i-have-in-common-we), which was used as a prop on the TV show, I am making some edits to this story.

Harry jolted when, upon entering the untidy lounge, she overheard her mother’s cries of pain. She had just returned home from school. She dumped her schoolbooks and notebook on the coffee table, kicked the empty, crumpled beer can that she had just stepped on out of her way, and rushed into the kitchen, where she found her mother leaning against the wall where the phone hung, her hands on her stomach. Her hair, which was a darker shade of blonde than her daughter’s, was dishevelled, and her face was damp with sweat. 

“Mummy!” the six-year-old cried, darting toward her mother. “What’s wrong?” 

Jean managed to smile at her little daughter. “Actually, nothing, sweetie,” she said. “The baby’s coming, that’s all. Since your daddy’s not here to take me to the hospital, I’ve rung an ambulance. Remember, we talked about this—it hurts for a while to have the baby, but I’ll be just fine.” She winced and doubled over for a couple of moments, and then straightened her back, still wincing. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. “You’ll have to stay with Mrs. Templeton while I’m at hospital, Harry. I rang her, too. She’s going to look after you till I come back with your new brother or sister.” 

Harry froze. Ever since she had learned, a few months ago, that her mummy was going to have a baby, she had known this day was coming. Before Harry could say anything, there was a loud knock on the front door. 

Rushing toward it, she swung the door open. A couple of paramedics stood there with a gurney. 

“Please hurry!” she pleaded. “Mummy’s in the kitchen, and she’s gonna have her baby!” 

The paramedics laughed. “Well, it certainly wouldn’t do for her to have her baby right there in the kitchen, now, would it?” one of them asked her, ruffling her blonde hair. “Don’t you worry, little one, we’ll get her to the hospital, and she’ll be well taken care of.” 

They entered the lounge with the gurney as Jean plodded through the kitchen doorway, both of her hands still wrapped around her belly, her damp face grimaced with pain. One of the paramedics glanced at the mess in the lounge with a frown before turning his attention to Harry’s mother. 

“Is there someone available to take care of your daughter?” the paramedic who had spoken to Harry asked her. “What about your husband? Is he available to look after her?” 

Jean hesitated, still grimacing in obvious pain. “No, he’s not. I don’t know where Hamish is; he left early this morning. Fortunately, a neighbour of ours is going to look after Harriet while I’m in hospital.” Her face relaxed, and she straightened her back. “The contractions started just a few hours ago, and now they’re just five minutes apart.” 

“Well, don’t worry, Mrs. Watson.” The paramedic smiled. “We’ll get you there in plenty of time to have your baby, and one of the nurses will ring your husband once we get there. Meanwhile, let’s get you settled on this gurney before the next contraction starts.” 

Harry watched, wide-eyed, as the paramedics helped her mother to lie down on the gurney and covered her up with the sheet. “Where does your husband work?” the one who had spoken to her and Harry asked her. 

“Army Reserves.” Jean swept her hair out of her face and laid her hands by her sides. “On the weekends. He’s unemployed otherwise.” She grimaced, and a troubled expression shadowed her face. The paramedic nodded, and then he and his partner wheeled her out the front door and toward the waiting ambulance. The warm April sun beat down on them as they wheeled her down the sidewalk. Mrs. Templeton had already arrived, and she was waiting on the kerb next to the ambulance; beads of sweat were already rolling down her face. 

“I’m going to look after Harry while her mother’s in the hospital,” she told the paramedics, and they nodded. 

“Please ring me,” Harry begged. “I want to know when my brother or sister’s been born.” 

“They’ll ring _me_ , sweetie, and I’ll tell you,” Mrs. Templeton assured her. Turning to Jean, she said, “Now, you ring me as soon as the baby’s born, you hear? Even if it’s the middle of the night, you still ring me. Don’t worry about waking me up.” 

Jean smiled wanly. “I promise, Alice.” 

“Good.” Mrs. Templeton smiled back. “Now, have you left a note for Hamish, just in case he doesn’t get word?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Jean nodded. “I did that just before I rang the hospital. It’s on the kitchen table; he’ll surely see it when he gets back.” She winced and stiffened as another contraction started. 

Mrs. Templeton nodded. “Good.” She gave Jean a reassuring smile. “Don’t you worry about Harry, Jean; I’ll take good care of her while you’re in hospital.” Jean gave her a feeble smile of thanks, and then winced again, in pain. 

She reached up to hug and kiss Harry good-bye; as the little girl straightened her back, Jean raised a hand to say good-bye to her neighbour. At that point, the paramedics then loaded Jean into the ambulance, and one of them entered the back with her. The other climbed onto the driver’s seat, started the engine, and drove off. Harry and Mrs. Templeton watched until they had turned onto the intersection; seconds later, they were out of sight. 

Mrs. Templeton laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’ll be hours before there’s any word,” she told the child. “You may well be in bed before I get the call. If that happens, I’ll tell you as soon as you get up in the morning. Meanwhile, since it’s teatime, I might just have a few biscuits you can snack on. Let’s get your schoolbooks, and then we’ll go to my house.” Harry nodded. 

“Why isn’t Daddy here?” she mumbled a few minutes later, as she accompanied Mrs. Templeton to her house across the street, their shoes clicking on the pavement, Harry holding her schoolbooks and notebook to her chest. 

“He’ll get here, never fear,” Mrs. Templeton assured her. Harry wasn’t so sure. Her father had already been drinking when he’d left the house early that morning, and she had long since learned that when he did that, sometimes it was a few days before he returned. Then he’d come back drunk, mean, and ready for a fight; sometimes he’d hit her or her mummy at those times. Harry entered her neighbour’s front door; unlike their own, Mrs. Templeton’s lounge was clean and tidy. Unlike the air conditioners in some of the windows at home, which never worked, the one that rested inside the lounge window hummed in the background, cooling off the room. It felt so good. Harry laid her schoolbooks and notebook on Mrs. Templeton’s coffee table and took off her jacket. 

_What’s it gonna be like, having a baby sister or brother?_ she wondered. 

**XXXXXXX**

Harry kept wandering around Mrs. Templeton’s spotless house that evening, unable to settle down. The spicy ginger nut biscuits that she had snacked on upon entering the house and the orange juice that she had swallowed had been delicious, and so had been the cottage pie and sticky toffee pudding that she and Mrs. Templeton had had for supper a few hours later, but it had been all that she could manage to concentrate on anything, even her food. It was especially difficult to concentrate on her homework. Not even the telly or the storybooks that Mrs. Templeton kept for her enticed her, that evening. At one point, she stopped to look at the calendar on the wall. The month was April, as she knew, and the day was the 22nd. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about her mummy. Or her daddy—what would he say, when he found out? He had not been at all happy when he had learned that his wife was going to have another baby; in fact, he’d been furious. As soon as she had told him, the two of them had had a shouting match that had ended with Mummy hiding in the basement for the rest of that day, and Harry hiding in the garden shed. 

Harry wasn’t sure, herself, what she thought of the prospect. Ever since she had learned that she was going to be a big sister a few months ago, she had been confused. Until now, she’d had Mummy all to herself—whenever her mother had actually been there, that is, and not hiding in the basement because of Daddy. Now she was going to have to share her mummy with a baby, and she might have extra chores to do. On the one hand, Harry was thrilled. It was going to be such a treat to have a little baby to play with; she hoped it would be a girl. On the other hand, Mummy was going to have to feed the baby and care for it, and she wasn’t going to be there for Harry when she had to do that. And Harry might have to help her mother care for the baby, which would leave her with even less time for playing with her friends and doing the other things she liked to do than she already had. And besides, there was Daddy to think about. What if he was mean to the baby? He was already mean to her. 

She and Mrs. Templeton were still waiting for the news when Harry took her bath and her bedtime came; reluctantly, upon Mrs. Templeton’s orders, she got ready for bed. Mrs. Templeton sat on the edge of the bed and sang to her. Shortly, Harry drifted off… 

_“How_ dare _you?!”_

_Harry popped her eyes wide open; leaping to her feet, she pressed her back against the plastered wall. Daddy was yelling at Mummy. Harry watched them, trembling._

_“Bad enough you’ve had one kid!” Hamish shouted. “And now you’re gonna have_ another _little brat!”_

 _Jean clenched her fists. “Yes, I am!” she shouted back. “And I’ll thank you not to call_ our _new baby a_ brat _! Or Harry, either.”_

 _“She _is_ , and so is the new baby!” Raising his hand and swinging it toward his wife, Hamish struck her hard across her face. “I never wanted a kid to begin with, and now we’re gonna have _two _?!”_

_Jean glared at him. “You don’t want kids, fine! I’ll take Harry, and we’ll stay with my mother until the baby’s born!”_

_“No!” Hamish hurried out the front door, slamming it behind him; Jean darted into the kitchen, where the basement entrance was, and where Harry knew that she would be hiding, leaving Harry to fend for herself until she came back out. Harry, meanwhile, had rushed out to the garden shed and slammed the door, fearing what her father would do to her when he came back…_

“Harry? Wake up, sweetie.” 

The little girl’s eyes popped open, and she looked into the eyes of Mrs. Templeton. It was morning, she noticed; the sunlight was pouring through the open bedroom window. 

“The hospital rang me several hours ago. You’re a big sister now.” Mrs. Templeton smiled broadly. “You have a new baby brother. He was born at one o’clock this morning.” 

A _brother_?! _No!!_ Harry pouted. “No fair! I wanted a baby sister.” 

Mrs. Templeton ran her hand along Harry’s hairline. “You’ll love him as soon as you see him, Harry. Your mother and your new brother will have to stay in hospital for a few days, but then they’ll be coming home.” She rose to her feet. “Now it’s time to get up. You need to get dressed. I’ll have a bowl of cereal waiting for you.” Nodding, Harry pushed aside the bedcovers and got up. 

“I want Mummy,” she said, minutes later, snuffling, as she entered the kitchen wearing her school clothes. A bowl of cereal sat on the placemat that Harry used, with a steel spoon next to it. “I want to see her.” Bending over, Mrs. Templeton wiped the tears off her face. 

“You have to be 12 before you can visit people in hospitals, Harry. You’ll get to see your mummy when she comes home with your new brother,” the elderly widow said. “She’s not in the hospital here, anyway. She had to be sent over to a hospital in London because there was a problem with the position your new baby brother was in.” 

Harry frowned. “Is Mummy all right?” 

“She is, and so is the baby. He was just turned the wrong way, is all. The doctor at Broomfield wasn’t sure he had the means to fix the problem, so he sent her to St. Pancras Hospital in London. Don’t worry, Harry, your mummy and the baby are in good hands there.” Nodding, Harry slid onto the chair, picked up her spoon, and started to eat her sweet, crunchy cereal. After she had eaten, she brushed her teeth. 

“Can I go play with Amy after school?” she asked. 

Mrs. Templeton nodded. She knew Harry’s friend, Amy Pitman, who lived next door to the Watsons. “Sure. But first, when you get here, I want to see your homework.” With a nod, Harry entered the living room, where she looked at the wall calendar. It was April 23rd. She put on her jacket, picked up her schoolbooks and notebook, and darted out the door. She trotted down the street toward the intersection, where she turned the corner and disappeared out of sight as Mrs. Templeton stood in the doorway and watched the little girl leave for school. Mr. Gruner, down the street, who was mowing his lawn, stopped to watch her. 

Hours later, when school was over for the day, Harry raced back toward Mrs. Templeton’s house, clutching her schoolbooks and notebook against her chest, where she saw that the door was open. To her dismay, she overheard her angry father shouting as she approached the entrance. She stopped on the porch to listen. Her father’s voice sounded slurred, a sure sign that he had been drinking. 

“Hamish Watson, you are a father, and you’re just gonna have to accept that,” Mrs. Templeton said firmly. Harry whirled to hurry off the porch before her father or Mrs. Templeton saw her and crouched underneath the window, listening. “And you don’t have to worry about having to look after Harry while your wife and son are in hospital. I will look after her until they come home. Now please leave! Harry will soon be back from school, and she does not need to hear you shouting.” 

“She’s _my_ daughter, and I’ll shout as much as I d___ well please!” Hurrying out the door, Hamish slammed it behind him as Harry hid behind a bush against the house. To her relief, her father took no notice of her, but stumbled across the road toward their own house and crashed the door behind him as he entered it. 

Trembling, Harry inched through the Templeton doorway, where she saw Mrs. Templeton sitting on the sofa. “You heard?” the elderly widow asked softly. Still trembling, Harry nodded and dropped her books on the nearest armchair. She removed her jacket and draped it over the arm of the chair. 

“Your daddy’s not feeling well.” Mrs. Templeton sighed. “I could tell he wasn’t when he came in.” 

Biting her lower lip, Harry took a deep breath. “Why does he hate me? Am I bad?” 

Giving the little girl a sad smile, Mrs. Templeton extended her arms, and Harry approached her. The elderly widow took Harry on her lap and cuddled her; her arms felt comforting as they embraced the child. “Your daddy doesn’t hate you, Harry. I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she told Harry. “I do know he’s a very angry and unhappy man. What happened in his life to make him this way, I don’t know. But I do know this, Harry: it’s not your fault that he’s like this. It’s not your new brother’s fault, either, or your mummy’s.” Harry nodded and leaned her head against Mrs. Templeton’s breast. 

“Will you come see my new brother when Mummy brings him home?” 

“I’ll do better than that.” Mrs. Templeton smiled. “I’ll take you home myself when she comes back, and we’ll meet your new brother together. I’m looking forward to seeing him, too.” She looked toward the armchair. “Now why don’t you bring me your books, and we’ll see what your homework is before you go to Amy’s?” Harry nodded, slid off Mrs. Templeton’s lap, and brought the elderly lady her schoolbooks and notebook. 

To Harry’s relief, her father didn’t come back to the Templeton house for the rest of the time that she stayed there. Each day after school, she spent a few hours playing with Amy, and at teatime, Mrs. Templeton always had a plate of biscuits and a glass of milk waiting for her in the spotless kitchen, where the two of them snacked on them. Then Harry had to do her homework; Mrs. Templeton always sat with her to help her if she needed it. Every night after supper, Harry and Mrs. Templeton watched telly together, and Mrs. Templeton read some storybooks to the little girl. All the while, Harry couldn’t stop wondering what her new brother was like, nor could she stop worrying about what her daddy’s reaction was going to be when he saw the baby for the first time. 

_I wish we could live here!_ she thought, several times. It wasn’t the first time she had wished that. Mrs. Templeton’s home was so much nicer than her own. 

“Mrs. Templeton, can we live with you?” she asked, at one point. “Mummy and my brother and me? I like it better here.” 

A sad smile crept across Mrs. Templeton’s wrinkled face. “I’d love to have you here, Harry, but there’s not enough room in this house for all of you. But you and your new brother can always come here when it gets bad at home.” Harry crept onto the elderly widow’s lap, and Mrs. Templeton wrapped her arms around the little girl. The heater hummed in the background, warming the room and, it seemed, simultaneously cooling off Harry’s emotions. 

A week after her new baby brother had been born, Harry’s granny and grandpa, who had driven down from north England the day before to meet their new grandson and had spent some time with Harry after their arrival, went with Daddy to the hospital in London to bring her mummy and the baby home. As soon as Daddy’s car pulled into the driveway, Harry, who had been watching for them ever since school had ended for the day a few hours before, jumped up and down. “Hurry, Mrs. Templeton! They’re here! They’re here!” she squealed. 

Laughing, Mrs. Templeton joined her. “Well, then, let’s go to your house and meet your new brother!” 

The door had swung shut behind Jean and her parents when Harry and Mrs. Templeton stepped outside, Harry wearing her jacket and clutching her schoolbooks and notebook. Harry rushed toward the front porch with Mrs. Templeton close behind her. The cool breeze gently brushed the child’s cheeks. 

“Mummy!” Harry darted into the messy lounge, where she found her mother seated on the sofa, holding the new baby in her arms. Her grandfather was sitting next to her, openly admiring the new-born boy and taking his picture with the camera that he and Granny had brought with them, and her grandmother was in the process of picking up the “empties” that Hamish had left on the living-room floor and placing them in a grocery bag so that she could take them out of the lounge to the dustbin in the kitchen. Hamish leaned against the wall, scowling at his wife and son. Harry dumped her schoolbooks and notebooks on the coffee table and removed her jacket, dumping it on the table next to them. 

“Hello, Harry!” With a laugh, Grandpa held out his arm to his little granddaughter. She hugged him. 

Granny smiled and greeted her as she was picking up another can. “Hi, Harry.” She dropped the crumpled can into the now-bulging grocery bag. 

“Hi, Granny!” Harry waved at her. 

Granny smiled at Mrs. Templeton, holding the bag of empty cans against her breast. “It’s good to see you again, Alice.” 

“You, too.” Mrs. Templeton smiled back, at Harry’s granny and then at Harry’s grandpa. 

With a laugh, Jean held the baby out to his older sister. “Come here, Harry! Come meet your new baby brother.” 

Harry stopped in front of her, and Mrs. Templeton stopped right behind her. Harry’s grandparents smiled at her. “Harry, this is your new baby brother, Johnny,” Jean said, with a smile. “John Hamish Watson.” 

“Ohh,” Mrs. Templeton breathed, “he is so sweet!” She looked at Jean. “He was born at one in the morning, you said?” 

Jean nodded. “Yeah.” 

Mrs. Templeton nodded. “The 23rd, then.” 

_April 23rd,_ Harry thought. 

“I see you’ve given him your husband’s name as his middle name,” Mrs. Templeton added. 

“Yeah.” Jean nodded. “At first, I thought of simply naming him after Hamish, but then I thought I’d better not. ‘John’ will suit him much better.” She paused. “I fed and changed him just before leaving the hospital, so he’s all right for now.” 

Granny frowned. “It’s most fortunate that you didn’t have to have a C-section after all, Jean.” 

“It sure is.” Jean shook her head. “For a while there, it looked as though I was going to have to. They had to put me under since it would have hurt too much otherwise, but they _were_ able to deliver my baby normally after all. And thank goodness!” 

“What’s a C-section?” Harry tilted her head. 

Jean sighed. “Well, Harry, that’s when the doctor has to operate on you to remove your baby, as they would, to remove your tonsils or appendix. They only do that if there’s a problem with the birth, and the baby can’t be delivered normally. It looked as though I was going to have to have a C-section, and that’s why I ended up having to go to a hospital in London, but thankfully, in the end, I didn’t need one. It would have taken me so much longer to recover if I had. As it was, your brother had to be delivered feet-first instead of head-first.” 

Harry reached out to touch the baby’s shoulder. He was wearing a blue cap on his little head. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he waved his little hands about. “Johnny.” 

Jean nodded. “That’s right, sweetheart. Johnny.” 

“I have a baby brother.” Harry smiled, and then she kissed his soft forehead. He really _was_ sweet. Granny, who had just binned the last of the empty cans in the kitchen and returned to the living room, approached the sofa, sat down on the other side of her daughter, and inserted her finger into the baby’s right hand, which immediately closed around it. Mrs. Templeton leaned over the edge of the sofa to admire Johnny. 

“He’s _so_ precious,” she crooned. 

Jean turned towards her husband. “Just think, Hamish! I’ve given you a son,” she told him, smiling. “A son of your very own, bearing your own name! John Hamish Watson.” 

“And why’d you even bother doing that?” Hamish continued to scowl. Fortunately, for once, he was sober, much to his daughter’s relief. 

“Well, since the middle name I gave our daughter is another version of my own name, I thought it was fitting, you know,” Jean told him. “Don’t forget that my name is the Scottish version of ‘Jane’.’” Hamish's expression did not change, and he did not reply or approach his new son. 

“Why won’t he look at me, Mummy?” Harry looked down at baby Johnny, puzzled. “Why does he keep his eyes closed?” 

“He’s not ready to open his eyes just yet. He will be, soon, though,” Jean told her. She looked up at Hamish. “He’s just seven days old.” 

“Well, don’t expect _me_ to help you care for him, Jean. You’re on your own,” Hamish growled. Jean’s parents and Mrs. Templeton looked at him disapprovingly. Jean sighed. 

“Hamish Watson! Shame on you!” Granny wagged her finger. “This is your new son; it’s your responsibility to be his father!” Scowling, Hamish muttered under his breath, but said no more out loud. 

Shaking her head, Harry’s mother turned to Mrs. Templeton. “Alice, I would love for you to be his godmother.” 

A pleased smile spread across Mrs. Templeton’s face. “I’d be honoured, Jean. You’ll let me know when his christening’s been scheduled?” 

“Yes.” Jean smiled. “Would you like to hold him?” She held him out to their neighbour. 

With a nod, Mrs. Templeton sat down in the armchair across the room from the sofa. Rising to her feet, Jean approached her and laid the baby in her lap. “You can hold him after your father’s had his turn, Harry,” she told her daughter. 

Harry shrugged. “Yes, Mummy.” 

“Where will he be christened, Jean?” Granny asked her. 

“Chelmsford Cathedral,” Jean said. Her mother nodded. 

Jean looked at her daughter for a long moment while Mrs. Templeton sat holding and admiring baby Johnny. “You know, Harry, you’re going to have to help me look after him,” Jean finally told her. 

Harry pouted. She had been afraid of that! Helping her mother look after Johnny was going to cut into so many of the things she liked to do, and she already had too many chores as it was. “Do I _have_ to, Mummy?” 

“Yes, you have to,” her mother said firmly. “I’ll need your help.” Her voice softened as she added coaxingly, “You’re a big girl now, Harry, and Mummy could certainly use your help.” 

Harry sighed, and then a mutinous expression crossed her face. She didn’t relish having to give up some of her free time to take care of her new brother. It wasn’t fair that her daddy wouldn’t help her mother take care of Johnny—maybe then, she wouldn’t have to! 

For the next few minutes, Mrs. Templeton _ooh_ -ed and _ahh_ -ed as she held the baby. Several times, she inserted her finger back into his hand, which immediately grasped it for a moment before reopening. Finally, glancing at Harry, she held the baby out to Jean. “I’m sure Harry would like to hold him next.” 

“Yes. But first—” Taking the baby, Jean turned toward her husband. “Hamish, wouldn’t you like to hold your son?” 

Hamish shook his head. Spitting on the floor, he left the room, displeasure still etched on his face. With a sigh and a shake of her own head, Jean laid the baby in Harry’s lap while keeping her hand under his head. 

“I can only hope that Hamish will eventually come around,” she told her parents. “He hasn’t held the baby once, yet.” 

Her mother and father exchanged sombre glances. “Hamish is stubborn. You’ll just have to wait and see how it goes with him,” her mother said. 

“I know.” Jean looked equally sombre. “I suspect it’s just as well he never came to see Johnny and me until he came with you to pick us up this afternoon. Nothing good would have come of his visits, I'm afraid.” Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to her daughter and Johnny. 

Harry perched on the other soft armchair, and her mother took the baby from Mrs. Templeton and laid him in her daughter’s arms. Granny, who had just taken the camera from her husband, took a picture of Harry and Johnny, and then a close-up picture of the baby. 

“Hi, Johnny,” Harry told her baby brother. “I’m your sister. My name’s Harry. Well, it’s really Harriet—Harriet Jane Watson—but everyone calls me Harry. I’m six.” She looked up at her mother. “What’s today, Mummy?” 

Jean looked up at the calendar on the wall. “It’s the 30th, sweetheart. April 30th,” she told Harry. “Tomorrow’s May 1st.” Harry nodded and looked back down at her new brother. 

_I hope Daddy learns to like him,_ she thought, as she cuddled Johnny against her breast. _He’s so cute. Daddy’s _got_ to learn to love him!_

She had a bad feeling that her father would not, any more than he had ever learned to love her. Furthermore, she was going to have to give up some of her free time to help her mother take care of him, and she didn’t like that one bit. 

With a sigh, she looked down at the quiet baby in her arms. _If only Daddy_ would _help Mummy take care of him, maybe_ I _wouldn’t have to! At least, not so much. But then, he’s never wanted to help take care of_ me _, either!_ She bit her lower lip. _Oh, well. Johnny really_ is _cute._ Bending over, she kissed his soft forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve borrowed elements of this story from the back history that sgam76 has already given John, and as of now, I’ve also borrowed from the birth certificate that was used as a prop on the show.


End file.
